


Lenore

by LordTraco



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Gaster Blasters, Hydras, Raven references, Sans being a poetry nerd, gaster backstory, lab notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5944233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordTraco/pseuds/LordTraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We are not alone below the mountain... at least we weren't. Not at first. Hydras, we called them. They proved to be very useful, but they are now a forgotten myth, a secret smudge on our collective conscience.<br/>How can one who no longer exists be forgiven? By sharing this tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lab Notes (Totally not a journal/diary, no a scientist wouldn't keep one of those!)

This rare breed makes its home at the edge of the magma, swimming in it, even. Their magic is strengthened not directly by their soul, it seems, but by the heat of their surroundings.

Cold-blooded would be an apt physical equivalent to this phenomenon. Where mammals produce their own body heat and reptiles do not, so too do we monsters make our own magic while these creatures… convert energy in the surroundings into magic. Almost like  ~~humans~~

Regardless, if I could comprehend the way in which they convert heat to magic, the potential energy to be harnessed down here is nigh infinite! Perhaps even enough to break the barrier! Colleagues whom I share this idea with have worn gazes full of hope for the first time in years.

These creatures lived here before us for who knows how long. They do not speak any language we understand. Some monsters have tried to fight them, still bitter over the ending of the war with the humans and wishing to dust something. The results of these fights have been… interesting.

The creatures, “Hydras” as many now refer to them, are capable of siphoning magic from us monsters should they successfully consume one whole. Not only that, but they are capable of growing a new neck and head for each soul they consume. It is yet unknown whether these souls are kept whole as well.

Thankfully unlike the tales of old, these Hydras do not regrow heads, let alone multiply for every time one is cut off. Nonetheless, we cannot afford to lose any more monsters to these creatures, and they thankfully acknowledge our displays of mercy. They even form bonds with those who willingly offer small bits of magic. Are we domesticating these creatures as those above us domesticated dogs?

It is unlike me to forget such vital information in a report, but the disturbing matter is now very relevant to my current studies. Hydras, alike the birds and magic-less fauna, are not reduced to dust upon death. They decay and are reduced to bone.

Of course, a skeleton should always be interested in bones. It came as a surprise when experimenting on a Hydra skull, that it practically came alive when given the slightest bit of magic. There was no function nor thought within, of course… but upon creating a tethered link of magic to the skull, the idea that the skull was mindless did not fit right. Obedient is the right word. I must test more.

The princess was killed today.

The king has declared that all Hydra be eradicated. Princess Toriel has confided in me a wish that I shall grant. Her sister’s soul may live still within that wretched creature, and so I am to cage it and keep it alive until it dies a peaceful death.

I do not know if it is morally right to keep this creature alive through this genocide of its people… for I now know that they do think and comprehend. I know they are sentient because of a skull I illegally removed from their sacred nesting grounds. I know their language from a link to said skull. And I know their culture from the scared child that now is hidden within a cage within my lab.

But this opportunity must not be wasted. The deceased Hydras offer vital information I need to design my greatest invention, the Core. Their skulls are powerful weapons if wielded. And their home provides territory our cramped population so greatly longs for.

This journal has seen better days… The Hydra are little more than a myth now, the king has passed on, leaving his throne to Toriel and her beloved Asgore, they’ve taken in a human child.

As expected, the human brought despair. One would have expected we’d learn.

 

With Toriel no longer here, the last one to remember the secret of the hydra is gone. My secret remains.

I had tea with Asgore today.

Sans came with me to work today.

He enjoys coming along to play in the lab while I work with the engineers on the Core design. The dissections carried out in secret ages ago truly were pivotal in finding out how to siphon and control the magic from the lava. Cooling the core is the only problem, but the answer to that may come from Snowdin, with its miraculously cold climate.

We went to Snowdin as a family today.

Things are going well.

She does not speak to me anymore. I have tried through these years to explain why the atrocity occurred, why I did not act as an ambassador for her kind. I am only a scientist… When we still spoke, I dared to hope there might one day be forgiveness to give.

Now that hope is crushed.

It cannot be avoided any longer. The calculations all restate the original conclusion… A hydra must be the original source of conversion from heat to magic… The rest is simple. The conversion to electricity or other useable forms of magic are all taken care of by the Core. It. My greatest creation. It only needs her.

She once told me that her kind dreamed of having wings. These tubes inserted into her back… I designed them to look like wings. Was that a half-hearted apology, or simply some sadistic irony on my part? I don’t know.

~~ (My only regret in falling is that my erasure did not erase the past and the hurt I’d caused. Rather, it only prevented any possible future of repentance or forgiveness.) ~~


	2. Sans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One is erased, but the Core was left, along with a very curious young scientist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is sorta short. More will be revealed in later chapters (whenever I get the interest in this again). Also, definitely look at "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe. It's a great lil poem that APPARENTLY not everyone has had to read for school and that blows my mind!

There are always treasures to be found in the soggy dump. Well, that’s mostly a lie, but a lie quickly forgotten once you find such a treasure. Hope was easy to rekindle in the early days, especially when Sans found a book of poetry. It was worn and soggy, but the words were still not difficult to see.

As is common practice in the Underground, Sans took to transcribing the book word-for-word onto new paper. He found the deathly references fitting for a skeleton to reference, and did so quite often. He especially liked “The Raven”.

And so when there came a gentle tapping within the Core,

Only this and nothing more,

So swift he crept, the sleeping adept,

To find his lost Lenore.

It took him years of searching the Core, a quite difficult task with the ever-changing landscape, but eventually found her. In the reactor room. The heat drove off all but Gas from the area. But even skeletons had their limit, and Sans was reaching his by the time he reached the door.

So he knocked. And a knock replied.

“Sir, or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”

Sans recounted the lines by heart, moreso to calm his nerves than anything. Surely it was just his fantasy that made him search the Core for this long. Surely this knock was not that of something else living. Surely this wouldn’t be his raven or…

“Nevermore” A voice carried through the door, a raspy voice that sounded all at once pained, sad, yet almost grateful.

Sans jumped back in fright, slipping and falling, staring incredulously at the door he’d still not opened. Magic churned within him in fear and confusion, and the blue illumination against the dark hallway spoke just how scared he was. Taking a moment to calm himself, he started again, intrigued.

“Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night’s Plutonian shore.” His voice was far shakier now than it had been when he had still thought himself alone and monologuing. But then… wasn’t monologuing just being the only one speaking? Wouldn’t it have been a soliloquy if he had been truly alone?

“Lenore” the voice spoke, lacking a little of the gruffness it had earlier. Sans wondered how long this monster had gone without speaking to have their voice so raspy and broken.

“That’s not the way the poem goes, Raven.” Sans smiled, getting closer to the door, still hesitant to open it.

“Twas you who came gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door, my Raven.” The voice smoothened out further, a deep, constricted chuckle following, but not before saying “my Raven” with a tone full of adoration. There was a pause, then the voice spoke again, sorrow drowning out all else. “ But the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore... is nameless  _ here _ for evermore.”


End file.
